From Dreams to Reality
by TK Date
Summary: There's only a thin line between what you think is real and what really is. Bad summary, yeah, but essentially the fic is about Muraki using Hisoka's curse to blur the lines of reality.
1. Prologue

_For anyone reading my Terazuma fic, no I have not abandoned it, I just have too many plot bunnies for my own good. There should be another chapter of that out sometime... _

For this fic, basic concept is...not easily explainable. ^_^;; I'm really nasty to Hisoka, so yeah. That's my basis. 

**~*~**

**From Dreams to Reality   
Prologue**

_Ningyou_- n. doll. 

The creation of the master. Wrought through time and skill, perfected only after years of work, and even then never absolute in its creation. A figure formed by one hand, born by one hand, given both life and death at the same power of that one hand, holding the power to create, destroy, and control. 

    The night was still. Small whispers of wind would find their ways through the open windows, drifting in with gifts of a taunting mist upon their backs. It was not true rain, rather the kind of spring drizzle that languidly decided to let itself fall from the sky and wander its way to the earth. The kind of rain that would leave no sound, but only the damn feeling of wetness that was not quite there. But wetness all the same that chilled to the bone. 

    He did not mind it. 

    Steam slowly rose from the cup of green tea that sat before him. It was fresh, just brewed and only a fool would drink the tea before it cooled. Only those who were not wise in their ways went forward without first planning the steps to be taken. 

    And that was precisely what he was doing. All that he needed was before him, sitting serenely in the figure of one simple doll. Her face was perfect, smooth skin, porcelain pale, with honey-brown curls and eyes as blue as the sea. And through her, he would pull the strings of his own doll, a doll that was much more precious. 

    He was already kneeling on a _tatami_ mat placed upon the floor. His eyes were closed with concentration. The preparations for the spell had just begun. 

    Spiritual energies shifted in the air, gathering and flowing everywhere. Silently he willed them closer, pooling the powers about himself. They streamed closer, rippling and whirling into a tight circle. The very air of energy set about the room. A faint ethereal glow grew, softly thrumming and fading in and out as the energies drifted about him. 

    Only then did he open his eyes. Raising one hand up from where it rested in his lap, he held up one finger, letting it hover just above his lips. Turning the palm to face his lips, he let the finger fall away, a slow arc of soft lighting following in its path. 

    Beyond the doll before him, the steam rising from the tea twisted itself and rose on its own will from the cup. Slowly it gathered in the glow of the mystic lights before reaching out in the form of a serpent, slowly gliding across the air towards him. It crept up onto his finger; its not-real scales and claws only a few shades lighter than his own striking pale skin. Curling his fingers in, he drew the small beast into his palm and turned it outward, toward the doll. 

    Obedient to his master's bidding, the serpent crept forward towards the doll sitting on the floor. As it moved, its body slowly shifting and undulating through the air, the light gathered by its master converged. Small waves of the glowing power crashed onto the nonexistent scales and were absorbed into the body, now glowing softly with the newly gained power. Once it had gathered the light from the room, but still shining no lighter than a firefly, it spun itself in the air, spiraling upward at a quickening pace before it dove in a vertical drop directly toward the doll. 

    There was a brief flash before the light vanished. 

    The doll looked no different than she did before. However, as her master's hand retrieved her from the floor the once-navy eyes flashed emerald. 

    This was only the beginning. 

    Closing his silver eyes, Muraki Kazutaka let himself slip into the familiar trance that would give him the power to penetrate dreams and mold the patterns of reality. 

**~**

    It all started out the same. 

    The blood spilled forth from the sky in shimmering patches, dying the faint pink petals a deep sanguine hue. The entire field seemed to be red with flowing blood that did not pour upon the ground, but rather seemed to float through the sky like mist, tainting everything yet touching nothing. Only few patches of the white petals managed to maintain their purity. But when the winds swept through the branches above, the crimson fog extended its hold over them as well. 

    Nothing could be saved, and he knew it, not even himself. 

    _He_ was there as well. And for once, the white garments, the pale skin, and the silver hair did not keep themselves as something separate from the blood stained surroundings. Everything was tinted the same color, and it made no difference who was who. 

    He was never able to run, nor did he try to. It was almost as if he was content to simply stand idle and watch the blood of an innocent spill through the reddish fog and stain the pink-white petals below. Sometimes it seemed to him like morbid fascination, the odd pondering of what it would feel like to die like that, brutally murdered with no remorse. Yet now he knew that feeling, the rough heat of a fever and the agony of days wasted in bed as his own life slowly slipped from his fingers. 

    All because of _him_. 

    And he was there now. Finished with his sinister deed, as always he turned, eyes glistening red in the tainted light. However this time, something different happened. He did not feel himself starting, tensing himself and readying to flee, as he knew he did. Nor did his killer chase after him, grabbing at the fabric of his kimono, pulling it from his body, leaving him bare to the wants of the crimson moon. 

    None of those things happened, because this time his killer instead calmly walked toward him, the blood faintly vanishing from his clothes, leaving him immaculate once again. It wasn't really the place to ask how such things could happen, because everything was true in the land of dreams. 

    Every wish and nightmare that the imagination could conjure…from the most beautiful to the most horrid. And this was no exception. 

    "You've noticed, haven't you?" the silky purr of his killer broke the silence, "Dreams have a way of changing themselves, _bouya_." 

    Something sparked at the edges of his empathy. It was a feeling, something vivid…something almost…real. 

    _That can't be…_he thought to himself, _this is just a dream…_

    "But then dreams are just the mind's way of twisting reality." The killer continued as he approached. "It's hard to tell where the dreams end and where the real world begins sometimes, wouldn't you agree?" 

    "What do you mean…?" he questioned slowly, trying to find an explanation for the very real dark emotions that played on the edges of his senses. 

    Suddenly, the killer was before him, his hand gripping the fabric of the kimono as he carelessly pushed it aside, revealing the pale bare skin beneath. 

    "How do you know that this isn't real, and what you live is a dream? Every night you visit this place…where I made you _mine_. Yet during the day you try to convince yourself otherwise. You try, futilely, to convince yourself that I hold no sway over you…yet is that really true?" 

    Emerald eyes narrowed with anger and confusion, but somehow he could not will his body to move. And the killer knew this. 

    Leaning closer he whispered his silken words gently into his ear. 

    "I think it's about time you had a little reminder of what is real, _bouya_." 

    Before he knew it, he was on the ground, the body of his killer looming over him; he could feel the blood. It was sticky on his skin…but there was something different this time too. 

    As he looked down, he did not see the words of the curse; there were no markings across his arms. The only brand made in blood were two _kanji_ centered on his chest. 

    "_Ningyou…_" the killer whispered. "You must remember…you are my doll…" 

    The pain sparked through his body as he felt the blood upon his chest burn itself deep into his skin, onto the very fabric of his soul. 

    It was then that he screamed. 

**~*~**

_There you have it, the prologe. First chapter's in the works...but it has lots of kinks, so don't expect anything soon unless I get a really good plot bunny_


	2. Chapter One

_Wow, a chapter, shock. I've alost chaptered on Terazuma fic too, which is more shocking. Sit tight kiddos, you just might get more fic out of me. _

This is where it starts to get angsty, so here comes all that depressed Hisoka that you know you want. Come on, you can't deny it. How could you be a Yami fan if you didn't like angsting Hisoka? I rest my case. 

**~*~**

**From Dreams to Reality   
Chapter One**

    He awoke gasping with the chill of sweat from the just finished nightmare already seeping through his skin. 

    It was the dream again, something not at all unlike from the tormented dreams that usually plagued his sleep, yet there was something…just so very _different_. There was always the very real presence of _him_ in his dreams. He felt the emotion, the darkness, malice, and unrestrained lust and it was all so very _real_. The same darkness now lingered on his senses, still taunting him from the very edge of his perception. 

    Calmly, acting almost detached from himself and his own reality, he held up his hand. Staring at the pale skin of his arm, which barely stood out in contract to the white ceiling behind, it he wondered at how it could remain so blank, unmarred, like the softened stone of a porcelain doll. Fragile and beautiful yet easily shattered in a moment. 

    A shiver danced its way down his spine as those thoughts invaded his mind. With his emerald eyes drifting closed, he pulled his arm back to his chest and cradled it there. He still couldn't help but wonder how odd it was-the dreams that _he_ occupied always left his skin burning with the dark crimson markings. But this one hadn't. 

    Once again he pulled his arm up and stared with an expression of near-awe on his face at the milky-colored skin. There was no sign of the curse. None of the marks appeared, and the burning edges of pain did not taunt his senses. Yet…the sensation on his chest from where the kanji was burned there in blood still hadn't vanished. 

    "No…" he whispered to himself and the empty room, "That didn't happen…" 

    After struggling to free himself from his blankets he stumbled to the bathroom, his breath suddenly coming short in his lungs. As the door was thrown open, he was his reflection in the mirror staring at him, skin pale and shivering, emerald eyes wide with fear, and his bare chest heaving from the deep breaths he drew. In and out, in and out. But there were no marks. No curse marred the skin of the reflection. 

    Relieved, Hisoka braced his hands on the counter and drew in a long deep breath. The mark wasn't there, and it never had been. Once his breath steadied, he turned the cold water on and splashed it on his face, trying to make the line between dreams and reality more real. 

    Again he looked at himself in the mirror, sandy bangs dripping with water, skin slightly reflective from the wet sheen. He was still himself, as he always had been, and as he would be for the rest of eternity. 

    "I'm just being paranoid…" he muttered, trying to convince himself of what was truth. "Right?" He gazed into his own green eyes, glared at them, softened the expression just for a moment before he closed them and shook his head, trying to dry out his damp hair. 

    "The dreams each night never meant anything…and neither did this one…" he continued, grabbing a towel and wiping his face off, "Tomorrow night, it'll be back to the same old thing, and nothing with have cha-" 

    A sharp pain in his chest stopped the words. 

    Breath came short once again, his hands reflexively tightened on the towel and the corner of the counter as he tried to brace himself. Sharp heat spread through his body, and for a moment he thought that he felt the welcome darkness dancing at the edge of his eyes, ready to pull him into unconsciousness, but in a moment it vanished. But the pain did not. 

    Moved by a force much greater than fear, he looked up to the mirror before him. 

    The clear bold _kanji_, branded onto his chest in dream, were there once more. Yet it quickly gave way to an older curse, one that he was more familiar with, though it was not identical to the curse he knew. The red lines were creeping upward from his chest, their crimson paths standing out in contrast to his pale skin as they reached for his neck, as if seeking to strangle him. 

    Then, in an instant, they were gone. 

    In that moment, his views of what was real and what was merely a dream blurred. That curse had only been created while he slept, in the world of unconsciousness. It couldn't hold sway over him while he was still awake. It just didn't make sense. 

    _But would anyone listen to you if you told them of it?_ A voice in the back of his head whispered. 

    It was _him._

    He saw the shock in his own eyes, the sheer surprise at the fact that somehow he could penetrate his own mind, his very thoughts. Hastily, he strengthened the shields that kept him from the feelings around him. He could not sense any break, or anything more of the distinct feeling that emanated whenever he was near other than the passing images of the dream. 

    What was that? 

    '_But would they listen…?_' 

    Hisoka shook his head quickly. The idea was insane. Of course they would listen; they cared about him. They were the first people that he had ever really felt like calling family. And your family was the ones that cared about you…right? 

    _Your other family didn't seem to function in that way._ He pointed out. 

    "Shut up," Hisoka muttered to himself, even though he knew that Muraki was no where near him. 

    Silently, he heaved a deep breath and pushed the thoughts away. It was probably just some work of the nightmare. Perhaps his sleep-deprived mind was just conjuring images up to play upon his fears. 

    Yet the doubt the words had instilled did not vanish quickly, but silently Kurosaki Hisoka decided it wouldn't be a bad idea to wear a turtleneck that day. 

**~*~**

    The day was unusually cool, at least in Hisoka's opinions. Usually days in Meifu did not tend to either extreme, there was just a sort of tepid warmth that permeated through the buildings and drifted past the sakura planted outside the office windows. There was always the feeling of not-quite-cold yet nothing too hot as well. Yet it was not true on this day, and he didn't know why. 

    None of his coworkers seemed to notice. Tsuzuki and Tatsumi still seemed perfectly comfortable in their suits, at one point in time Tsuzuki had even taken his jacket off, and there were no complaints of the chill. Terazuma's shirt still remained partly unbuttoned, and he himself was perfectly disheveled, seeming to care nothing for the existence of any sort of unnatural cold or warmth. 

    But even in his dark emerald turtleneck, Hisoka was still cold. But it wasn't the sort of chill that could be easily banished with a cup of warm tea or by keeping his white trenchcoat on inside the office. Having done both things already, Hisoka still felt it, yet he would not let anyone else know that he felt at all different from how he usually was. Years of long practice at being aloof did not simply vanish within a matter of moments; it took just as many years to do away with them. 

    But Tsuzuki seemed to be perfectly intent on taking that time to achieve just that goal. 

    "Ne, Hisoka?" he asked cautiously, knowing that the blonde had peculiarly more on edge today than usual, "Are you feeling okay?" 

    For the time being, the two of them had been resigned to menial deskwork, not that Hisoka minded in the least. His work was long since finished, and he had decided to spend his time trying to pull through the pages of a new book. Something old, a translation of an Englishman's work, Lord of the Flies. 

    Glancing up from the pages of island exploration and the pull of inner carnality he managed to shoot Tsuzuki a look that, while not completely piercing, made his partner cringe slightly. 

    "It's nothing," he answered, returning to his reading and trying to ignore the worry pressing too close on his shields, "It's just been a little cold today." He conceded, hoping that it would make Tsuzuki feel better, or at least dampen the concern. 

    "I haven't noticed anything…" Tsuzuki mused to himself, for a second Hisoka was almost assured that his partner had forgotten about his well being, but not for long "Do you think you have a fever?" 

    "_Baka_," he muttered, "_Shinigami_ don't get sick…Watari-san said so." 

    "Liar," Tsuzuki answered with a pout, "You didn't ask Watari about this. You haven't seen him all day." 

    "That doesn't mean that what he said earlier isn't true," Hisoka pointed out, keeping his voice calm and detached. 

    "You should still go and see him, it'd be good for you." 

    Normally Hisoka would have agreed with him, simply to keep his partner from worrying too much and blaming himself. But the thought of a visit to Watari wasn't a pleasant one at this time. He didn't want the scientist to start prying about his dreams, especially the one he'd had last night…and if the marks appeared then, he wouldn't want to explain it. 

    _And he won't believe you, will he?_ Muraki's voice whispered at the back of his head, _Then what will they think?_

    Shaking his head he dispelled the thought, attempting to banish the voice he knew should not be there, but he still wouldn't agree to see Watari. 

    "I'll be fine," he said, closing his book and putting it down on the desk. "It's just that…" 

    Thankfully, at that moment Tatsumi came in and saved him from further explanation. 

    "You two have a case," Tatsumi interrupted Hisoka's incomplete words, giving the discarded sweets on Tsuzuki's desk a disapproving glance, "We'll be meeting immediately." 

    Relieved from his duty to explain the situation to Tsuzuki, Hisoka quickly set his book down on his desk, not caring whether or not he lost his position, and made his way to the meeting room. 

    "Ne, Hisoka!" he heard the voice call after him, but he didn't turn to look back. 

    _Why should you? He's just prying for his own gain. If he finds out about you he'll leave._

    Silently Hisoka disregarded the words that the voice spoke once again. He _knew_, somehow, that Tsuzuki just _wasn't_ like that…was he? 

~*~ 

    The case surrounded around a certain individual named Itori Keiko. As far as work for the Shinigami went, it was relatively simple. Keiko had died, right on schedule, but her spirit had not made its journey to Meifu. Since it remained somewhere around her home in Nagasaki, Tsuzuki and Hisoka would be sent to investigate. 

    Really, there was not much more to be said about it than that, but for some reason the staff meetings for cases like these always seemed to drag on forever. Hisoka suspected it was because Tatsumi was part demon, either that or he was some kind of cruel sadist. Either way, the extended amount of time he spent in the briefing room only served to make him feel more uncomfortable. 

    For one, not only was the strange chill somewhat stronger in that room, but it almost seemed as if he was loosing control of his empathetic shielding in the presence of more company than just himself and Tsuzuki. He knew the idea was ridiculous, but that did not counter the fact that he would still feel flashes of emotion coming from either Tatsumi, Konoe, Watari, and Tsuzuki. 

    It was unsettling to say the least. Even worse was the fact that none of the emotions seemed to be positive. For some strange reason, it was as if all that anyone had on their minds was negative thoughts and emotions. Silently, Hisoka wondered what was bothering everyone so much, but he did not dare to voice his questions, for beneath the underlying dark emotions he felt a very vague hinting of irritation, impatience. And something in the back of his mind fervently believed that these emotions were directed at him. 

    _Of course, that's because they are_, the voice would taunt him whenever this thought entered his mind, but just as quickly as it came it would go, leaving Hisoka confused and startled. 

    However, no one seemed to notice the sudden expressions of almost-fear and shock that crossed his face, which only made him worry more. It was entirely possible that they were just focusing more on the presentation Tatsumi was giving then on the slight changes in his facial expressions. Yet Hisoka had somehow become accustomed to the smallest feelings of concern and care that would ripple off his coworkers whenever he found his defenses slipping and the slightest bit of pain or weakness showing in his outward expressions. And today, those feelings were gone. 

    "Kurosaki-kun," Tatsumi's harsh voice broke through his pondering as Hisoka realized that he must have missed something in the briefing. 

    "Yes?" he asked, a slightly timid tone slipping into his voice. 

    "Try to pay more attention," the secretary reprimanded him as slight traces of anger tickled at the edges of Hisoka's empathy with the words. 

    "Hai…" Hisoka replied softly before turning to face the projection on the wall opposite Tatsumi. 

    The anger, more than anything, left him unsettled. He rarely could feel Tatsumi's emotions, the man had a grip like iron over his own feelings, and it was only when he felt very strongly about something that the empath was able to detect the slightest hints of emotion from his mind. But his day dreaming during a case briefing could be enough to set off anger that strong within Tatsumi…could it? 

    _You're fooling yourself to think otherwise, boy._ His voice had returned. 

    _Shut up_, Hisoka thought to himself, more than toward Muraki's voice that sat at the very back of his mind. 

    _You can't silence the truth even if you try. I'm sure that even you know that…_ The words were smooth as always, as that same deep voice penetrated his mind. 

    _What truth?_ Hisoka thought cautiously, unsure exactly what the mad doctor was referring. 

    _Surely you know what I'm talking about?_ The voice questioned, and continued when no response issued from Hisoka's thoughts. The anger you cause him. Don't try to tell yourself it's not the truth. 

    _What would you know about that?_ Hisoka snapped mentally. 

    _Quite a bit more than you would think, boy. _

    What…? He was almost tempted to blink in confusion, but he knew that would only attract more attention from his coworkers. Then they would start questioning him, and who would believe him if he told them of the voice of his murderer echoing in his mind? 

    _Exactly…_ Muraki's voice whispered in agreement with the empath's thoughts. 

    _Shut up…_ Hisoka thought, anger rising slightly in his mind. 

    _Even you think it's true. How can you deny it to me when your thoughts betray you? _

    You don't always believe what you think, Hisoka replied, trying to keep his facial expressions calm. 

    He heard the deep laugh echo through his mind, suppressing a shudder at the sound of it. 

    _You really think that, boy? If you don't believe what you think…then what do you believe? _

    Shut up…I don't have to tell you. 

    You don't have an answer for me, do you? 

    I told you to shut up, Hisoka growled mentally, having more courage to face his murderer in his own mind instead of within the real world. 

    _You're lying to yourself._ Muraki stated shortly. 

    _…about what? _

    What do you think, boy? The doctor taunted, _About their concern. They don't really care about you. You're nothing in their eyes. You've seen it in the way they feel…why try and convince yourself of it otherwise? _

    That's not true! 

    Is it? 

    Just… 

    Why would they be angry if they cared? 

    Shut up… 

    Why would he be impatient and annoyed if he were concerned about your well being? 

    Shut up! 

    Why should any of them care about you? 

    "Shut up!" 

    Almost instantly, the voice vanished. However, as a sigh escaped Hisoka's lips, he noticed that the silence in his mind was met by the silence of the room around him. He had slipped. The words he meant to only think to himself had been spoken aloud for everyone present to hear. 

    Blinking, he took a deep breath to calm the quickly rushing fear that assailed him as he saw everyone's eyes turned to watch him. There were shocked expressions on all of their faces. No one had ever interrupted one of Tatsumi's briefings before, even Tsuzuki tended to remain quite for the majority of them. 

    Tatsumi's expression was still stern, almost irritated. Hisoka could feel the anger involuntarily moving against his shields. No matter how hard he tried to push it out, it only pressed harder against his mind. The strength of the raw emotions quickly swept through him. It crashed over any instances when he could remember Tatsumi ever having shown concern for his own well-being, which were already few in number, and dissolving any hope he might have had that Tatsumi might have cared for him as more than just a simple employee. 

    Watari had looked up from where he was mussing with plans for a new invention, and a frown creased Konoe's already-wrinkled face. They were confused, and they shared Tatsumi's anger. No one liked staff meetings, and interruptions that only served to delay the ending of such meetings were usually unwelcome. They gave way to anger, to the annoyance and heady emotions that Hisoka knew only gave way to stronger passions of hatred and condemnation if given time to fester. 

    However, Tsuzuki's expression was the one that struck Hisoka the most. His deep purple eyes were wide with shock and what almost seemed like fear. Fear. Of what, he was not quite sure, but he knew the feeling all too well. Fear of his own parents, fear of the voice that spoke in his mind. Yet now, it was Tsuzuki's fear. Fear, not of himself and of his own lack of humanity, but of his own partner. This was the fear that cut Hisoka the deepest. 

    Underneath the turtleneck, Hisoka could feel the deep throbbing pain of the curse marks. They burned on his skin…and he felt pain in places where it had not been before. The marks were spreading. 

    "Hisoka?" he heard Tsuzuki's voice and quickly turned his head down so that he would not have to look into those wide amethyst eyes. "Hisoka, are you okay?" 

    There it was, that same sense of caring and quite concern that he had grown so accustomed to. In the space of a moment, relief washed over him, smoothing away the fears and doubt that the voice of his killer had left in his mind. 

    "Ah…I'm okay…" he spoke softly, trying to keep his lips from showing the slightest hint of a calm smile he felt forming there. 

    Yet the dull throb of the scars continued, and at once Hisoka knew he could not truly be calmed yet. Even though he knew that Tsuzuki cared about him, honestly and genuinely, he still couldn't show the other man the marks. In the morning they had vanished in only an instant, and he knew that if that happened now, nothing good could come of the situation. 

    "That's good," Tsuzuki spoke with a smile, once again breaking through Hisoka's thoughts. "Ne, Tatsumi?" he asked, turning his best and most pleading puppy dog eyes on the surly secretary, "Are we done yet? It's almost lunch time…" 

    For a moment Tatsumi glared at Tsuzuki's little doggie form before the power of puppy dog eyes overcame him and he simply sighed, pressing a hand to his forehead. 

    "Very well then. But I expect you two to start this case immediately after you get back, understood?" 

    "Hai," both partners uttered in unison. 

    "This meeting is over then." 

    "Yay!" Tsuzuki cried before immediately latching himself onto Hisoka. "Ne, let's go out for lunch! I know this place with some really good Italian and-" 

    "Actually, Tsuzuki-san, I need to talk to Kurosaki-kun for a minute before you leave." 

    "Oh…" Tsuzuki blinked once before smiling, "All right! Hisoka, I'll be waiting outside, okay?" 

    With that he bounded out of the meeting room. Konoe and Watari had already made their ways out, leaving Hisoka to face whatever the secretary had prepared for him. He had yet to rise from his seat, so he sat, silently regarding Tatsumi with his wide green eyes. His face had worked itself into a small expression of confusion as his brows knit together, slightly creasing his forehead. 

    "What do you want to talk to me about?" he cautiously asked Tatsumi. 

    Moving around he table, Tatsumi took a seat across from Hisoka and folded his hands in his lap. 

    "Kurosaki-kun, are you feeling quite all right?" he asked simply. 

    However, this time, before the relief could touch Hisoka's mind, the voice echoed in his head. 

    _He's only making sure that you won't mess up on the mission and cause harm to Tsuzuki-san._

    "Ah…I'm fine, Tatsumi-san." 

    "It isn't like you to not pay attention during a briefing," Tatsumi stated with a slight frown tugging at his face, "Are you sure that there's nothing bothering you?" 

    For a moment, Hisoka was tempted to tell him everything. To simply burst out and tell him all the details of the dream, of the marks that were spreading from where they had once been yet vanished in an instant, about the voice of his killer that spoke in his mind, and of the strange emotions he felt from everyone, but he didn't. Somehow, even though it was nice that Tatsumi cared about him, he still didn't feel as if he would trust the other man to not criticize him. 

    "I've just been busy the past few nights, and I've stayed up late," he lied, "Usually I just get caught up in a book and forget what time it is…it's nothing much." 

    Tatsumi gave him a critical look. It was a valid excuse; the question was whether or not Tatsumi would accept it. Hisoka knew it would come down to this. He kept his face calm as he met the secretary's gaze. After a moment, Tatsumi relented with a small smile. 

    "Very well then, you may go. I'm sure Tsuzuki-san is waiting for you." 

    "Ah…thank you Tatsumi," Hisoka answered softly before he rose and left the room. 

    As expected, Tsuzuki was waiting for him in the hallway. The two of them quickly made their way to Chijou and Tsuzuki led the way to the restaurant. Yet along the way Hisoka still could help but ponder as to whether or not the words that Muraki spoke to him were true. He knew inherently that the doctor would lie to get his way. But there was no goal that would be accomplished by lying about those sort of things, so why would he? What was he trying to get by convincing Hisoka that his coworkers and closest friends did not truly care about him? 

    However, beyond that was the ever greater fear as to whether or not the words the killer spoke were the true…and if he had been simply fooling himself and creating his own illusion by believing that anyone cared about him… 

**~*~**

_Behold, there it is in all its evilness. My main premise has now been partially revealed, joys. This fic shouldn't be very long, I'm not planning on it being epic in the least, so don't expect much. Reviews are good for the writing juices you know *nodnod*_


	3. Chapter Two

_This chapter simply never went where I wanted it to. But oh well, I'm not really complaining, just stating a fact for the record ^_^ You shouldn't complain either, you get gratuitous Hisoka showering scene, so enjoy._

**~*~ **

From Dreams to Reality   
Chapter Two 

    Immediately after he and Tsuzuki left the restaurant and began on their mission, Hisoka felt a distinct feeling of fear spread throughout his mind. He knew the mission was a common one, and that was not what he was afraid of. Rather, it was a fear of what he knew would come. 

    As easy as missions were, they were never solved in a single day. Even the simplest of them spanned at least two day's time. This meant one simple thing to Hisoka. He would have to share a hotel room with Tsuzuki. 

    Usually, the thought did not bother him. Though he would not admit it to himself, Hisoka had almost began to enjoy the intimacy that they shared sleeping in the same room. It wasn't the same as sharing a bed, but it was as close as Hisoka wanted to get at the current moment, and he was happy with what he could get. 

    However, sharing a room would mean something entirely different now. Hisoka had never been trusting of his sleep to not betray him. His nightmares never came when he expected them, and with them came unexpected displays of weakness and a situation which robbed him of every barrier he had constructed to distance his heart form those of others. 

    Nightmares exposed the reality of his fear and weakness to the world. They showed everyone just how much he carefully hid his own cravings for human contact and for someone to actually _care_ during the day. 

    And if the nightmare he had last night was any indication, the nightmares in nights to come would expose so much more. 

    Hisoka had to fight down the urge to shudder at the thought of what would happen if those dreams came. No matter what, he did not wish to awake to find his own screams echoing in his ears and Tsuzuki's wide violet eyes fixed upon the mark on his chest and the growing lines that crept towards his throat and hands with a mix of fear and morbid awe. 

    Shaking his head he quickly tried to banish the thoughts. His fears could wait until the nighttime, as they often did. For now, they had a case to work on. If Hisoka let that fear seep into his work, then Tsuzuki would notice, and then… 

    _Then would he really care about you? Would he truly show you kindness?_

    Hisoka wished he could deny the question that Muraki asked. However, his own doubts had long since been working at his mind. If he showed his fear, his strength would slip and then, once again, he would be reminded of the gap that existed between himself and Tsuzuki. It was that gap that constantly reminded him of how weak he was, and how that weakness would paint the image of him that was seen in Tsuzuki's eyes. He did not want to be treated as a child. 

    Silently, he stole a glance at Tsuzuki. The two of them were making their way to the house where a young girl had died. Her cause of death was normal; however, her spirit had yet to return. And that was where their job came in. 

    Tsuzuki seemed to be taking it all in stride with a smile, as always. Yet because of his own thoughts plaguing him, Hisoka had failed to notice the abnormal silence that spread between them as they walked down the streets of Nagasaki. 

    "Oi," he spoke up, trying to catch Tsuzuki's attention. 

    "What is it?" Tsuzuki asked, turning his violet eyes on his partner. 

    Pausing for a second to gather his thoughts, Hisoka turned his gaze away from those shining purple eyes and watched the trees pass him by as the two walked down the road. 

    "You're quiet," he finally said, finding no other way to approach the situation aside from sheer blunt comments. 

    "Ah…I see…" Tsuzuki answered with a smile, as if Hisoka's observation had revealed some sort of stunning knowledge about his partner that had never been brought to light before. Hisoka cast him a scathing glance and the purple-eyed Shinigami just laughed. "I guess I have been, I'm sorry." 

    "Why are you being sorry about it?" Hisoka mumbled, unsure of his own words. 

    "Well, it looked like it worried you, and I can't have that," Tsuzuki replied, smiling an even broader grin at the sight of the slight flush that sprung onto Hisoka's cheeks at that comment. 

    "Baka," the younger Shinigami muttered. Tsuzuki kept on smiling. 

    "I guess so," he replied, the grin still present on his face, "But I can't fix something like that after this many years, ne?" 

    Hisoka refused to dignify that comment with a response, as all he did was fix an emerald glare on the other Shinigami. Unfortunately, Tsuzuki had long since become impervious to his glares. He'd have to work on making them stronger. Maybe sometime later though. 

    "Well, this case should be pretty easy," Tsuzuki said, rambling to himself, as he usually did, "If it's just a kid we have to find, she'll probably be somewhere out in the open. Places that kids like, you know? Like maybe the park…or at a festival! Hey, Hisoka, did you ever go to a festival when you were little?" he asked, not really expecting to get a reply out of his partner, and continuing to talk when none came. 

    "I remember one time I went to one and I caught this cute little fish at one of the games. I think I named him Koi. It's a pretty silly name for a fish, now that I think about it. Especially since he was just a little goldfish…but I guess I was little…" 

    Hisoka sighed to no one and to himself. He got what he had asked for, Tsuzuki was talking again. Blathering about everything and nothing and not even caring that he was attracting stares quite simply because of the fact that the man was obviously holding out a very animated conversation with himself. 

    At least it was better than the silence though. Now that he had something to distract himself, he figured that he wouldn't get as hung upon the voices echoing inside his mind. And that would probably be for the best. At least for now. At least until night fell. 

~*~ 

    Itori Keiko had lived in a fairly normal house. Granted it was a bit smaller than most, and situated in a packed residential area. But it was normal nonetheless. There was a park two blocks down with a few swing sets and a set of monkey bars and a few scattered trees that had a path winding through them in the manner of a wandering snake. It was all expected, all normal. 

    Frankly, Hisoka wondered why a soul that young would be lingering. It was never really their job to find out things like this, but that did not stop the curious mind from wondering. Usually, children, of all souls, were the ones that made the quickest journey to the other world. They were too young to have developed too many connections to the land of the living and did not fully grasp the idea of dying yet. If there ever was a problem with a child's soul, the cause was usually some sort of lingering distress the young spirit felt from their parents. That was where the problem lay. 

    A normal pair of Shinigami would have disregarded this, and simply gone about their business of retrieving the soul. But Tsuzuki wouldn't have that. He never did things how a normal Shinigami would do them. Instead, Tsuzuki had insisted on visiting Keiko's home, posing as a teacher from school who wished to offer his condolences to the parents of the deceased. 

    In doing so, he hoped to gain some more information surrounding the Keiko's death, and quite possibly a reason as to why her soul would remain in this world. 

    Hisoka thought it was all foolish. But that was what he usually said to Tsuzuki's plans. Never let it be said that Hisoka had any sort of confidence for what his partner did. In fact, he secretly believed that Tsuzuki's strange quirks were the exact reason why the elder Shinigami had been pushed so close to the brink of insanity, the line which he had even been forced to cross when it came tot he events of Kyoto. 

    With a sigh, Hisoka shook his head. That didn't matter at the moment. Right now, they had work to be done on their case. His job in the scheme of things was simple, it always was. While Tsuzuki did his thing, speaking with the parents of the deceased and trying to find some rhyme or reason to the events that had happened, Hisoka concentrated on the actual objective of the case. 

    If they wanted to return the girl's soul, they would need to find it too. Sneaking into the child's room, he had managed to gain a fairly sure grasp on her empathetic aura. Everyone's was different, and through that spiritual residue of emotions, he would be able to track her. 

    Tsuzuki had never really approved of this method. It always left Hisoka's shields slightly weaker than usual, and that meant he was more likely to snap at his older parents. However, Hisoka did not seem to care. It was work, he had to do what had to be done. 

    Closing his eyes, he situated himself immediately outside the door to the child's house. No one would be able to see him but Tsuzuki, and when his older partner exited the house, he would know to wait until the empath emerged from his trance. 

    Slowly but surely, Hisoka let his shields slip, if only slightly, but it was enough to grant him a wider scope to the emotions that radiated throughout the region. 

    As he expected, there was nothing truly out of the ordinary. It was a typical neighborhood, therefore, there were typical emotions floating about in the air. The joy of a young child playing, worry of a stressed mother, contentment of a father returning from a day of work well done. It was all the same, all as he expected. 

    Hisoka knit his brow in concentration. Now, the hard part came. Through the waves of emotions, he would need to sort through the various spiritual auras and feelings to the find the one that matched the same essence of the girl that he had received from her room. 

    It would take time, but he knew he could do it. 

    Carefully, he began the process. Groups of emotions faded away as he found that their specific making did not match that Keiko. However, at times a new person would enter his range of perception. Quickly, he tired to deal with the new aura and either match it up to the girl's psyche or dismiss it as another person, one who was living instead of dead. 

    Then, it came. 

    The new wave of emotion almost threatened to bring Hisoka to his knees. It swept throughout the area, dark and morbid with a chill that stretched into Hisoka' soul in an all too familiar way. He _knew_ this essence. He knew it well. 

    It was _him._

    Gasping from the shock, Hisoka quickly threw up his shields, grasping at the wall behind him for support. Only after regaining his senses a few moments later did he think to question the sudden appearance. However, Muraki seemed all too pleased to answer the Shinigami's question. 

    _Surprised to see me, bouya?_ he taunted from inside Hisoka's mind. _I thought I would pay you and Tsuzuki-san a little visit. I hope you don't mind_

    "No…" Hisoka whispered, not caring if anyone heard him. _You're not supposed to be here…_ he thought frantically. 

    _But I am,_ Muraki said calmly, _Do you really think that there's anything that you or any of your 'friends' at EnmaCho can do to stop me from doing as I wish, bouya?_

    _Just leave me alone,_ Hisoka spat at him, _Get away from me._

    _I would rather not,_ he replied, _I've been having quite a bit of fun playing with you, my precious little doll. I wonder what would happen if Tsuzuki-san realized just how much control I have over his precious partner…_

    _You don't have control over me!_ Hisoka all but shouted, _I…I'm not your doll!_

    _We shall see about that bouya…we shall see._ Muraki said simply. _Well, enjoy your time with Tsuzuki-san, I shall be seeing you again soon…_

    "Muraki!" he shouted, not knowing that his words were spoken aloud, "Wait!" 

    "Wait…?" Tsuzuki's words broke through Hisoka's trance, "Why should I wait, Hisoka? I'm right here." 

    Caught by surprised, Hisoka's head turned to gaze at his partner's confused face. He could feel the heat rising to his cheeks in embarrassment as Tsuzuki looked on. 

    "Tsuzuki…" he began softly, trying to come up with some sort of explanation for his actions. "I…" 

    "Are you feeling okay, Hisoka?" His partner asked, reaching out to put a hand on the boy's forehead. 

    Quickly, Hisoka pushed the hand away, knowing that now more than ever he did not need the excessive rush of emotions that always accompanied Tsuzuki's touch. However, his downcast eyes failed to catch the hurt expression that swiftly crossed Tsuzuki's face as he did so. 

    "I'm fine…" Hisoka muttered, "I can't find any traces of her." 

    "Aa…I see," Tsuzuki said softly, "Well, we can try some more tomorrow. Come on Hisoka, let's go have dinner, then we can check into the hotel and get some sleep." 

    "Right…" Hisoka mumbled, following his partner as the two of them walked down the steps of the young girl's house and out into the street that ran before it. 

    Hisoka knew that his shields had not truly recovered yet, but he did not wish to tell Tsuzuki of that fact. His partner knew how the empath's powers worked. He would understand the edge to Hisoka's words as the younger Shinigami tried to gain a semblance of separation between himself and those around him. However, what Tsuzuki did not know was of the dark feeling that danced upon the edges of Hisoka's senses. The dark feeling that haunted the back of his mind and threatened to overtake him once the shadows of night fell. 

~*~ 

    For once, dinner with Tsuzuki had been surprisingly uneventful. Sometimes Hisoka had wondered if it was at all possible for his partner to come within three feet of anything with even a stitch of sugar in it without making a scene. However, on that night the older Shinigami had proven himself. 

    The two ate together with Tsuzuki holding a mostly one-sided conversation with himself. Occasionally Hisoka would comment, however, he kept himself more quiet than usual. The din of the restaurant was distracting, as were all of the unwanted emotions of the other diners. 

    Hisoka hated it sometimes. He hated being unable to put a solid barrier between himself and everyone else that he could easily regain if he ever needed to diminish it. However, such thoughts, as he knew well, were always wishful thinking. 

    The hotel that they were staying at was modest, but, as always, cheap. Two simple futons were set in the middle of the room. There was a small washroom off to the side, and a kitchenette on one of the walls. Hisoka had gotten used to staying in hotels that never quite seemed to be comfortable but were always livable. Tsuzuki, on the other hand, made a point of complaining about it at every given opportunity. 

    "Tatsumi said that we were doing fine for the budget this year, you'd think that he could spare just a little bit so that we could get some actual beds…" He complained, not caring if Hisoka replied or not, "Some of these places are so old I swear they're falling apart! He's such a cheapskate…" 

    "It's better than staying out on the streets," Hisoka said flatly from where he was seated on one of the futons, a book open in his lap. "At least this place isn't falling apart." 

    "I know…but still!" Tsuzuki added with a pout, "Tatsumi's so mean!" 

    "You're never going to get anything accomplished unless you complain to his face," Hisoka replied. 

    "But…" 

    "Either do something about it or stop whining," the younger Shinigami snapped, putting his book down and getting up from the futon. "I'm going out." 

    "Ah…Hisoka…" Tsuzuki moved as if to stop his partner, but a harsh glare from his emerald eyes stopped the Shinigami in his steps. Hisoka left the hotel room alone. 

    Though he had not really intended to be that harsh to his partner, he was not concerned with that manner at the moment. For as annoying as it had been, Tsuzuki's whining had brought up a valid point in his mind. Even if he could not tell his partner about what he had sensed in the area, he was sure that Tatsumi would understand his fears. 

    At the very least, Tatsumi was more likely to listen to him without breaking down when he first mentioned the white-haired doctor. With that thought in mind, Hisoka left for Meifu. 

    He knew that Tatsumi would still be in the office. Although he did not think Tatsumi had ever resorted to Watari's methods of actually sleeping in his office, he knew for a fact that the secretary would often stay late if there was still work left to be done. Therefore, it did not surprise Hisoka in the least when Tatsumi responded to the knock on his door with a muffled 'come in.' 

    A surprised expression crossed the secretary's face for a moment as he saw Hisoka step into his office. However, it quickly faded to be replaced with his usual calm façade. 

    "How can I help you, Kurosaki-kun?" he asked. 

    "Tatsumi-san…I…" Hisoka began, and then, after taking a breath to calm himself, he continued, "I sensed Muraki." 

    Tatsumi's blue eyes narrowed at the mention of the name. "Where?" he said curtly. 

    "Right around the house we were investigating. He's probably in Nagasaki…not that far away from where we're staying." Hisoka said. 

    "I see…have you told Tsuzuki-san?" Tatsumi asked cautiously, knowing how Tsuzuki would react to this sort of information. 

    "No, not yet," Hisoka said, shifting his gaze to the floor, "I didn't want to tell him, considering what had happened…" 

    Tatsumi considered his words for a moment before nodding once. "You're probably right. Unless he appears to be a threat, it would be best to keep Tsuzuki-san from knowing. However, I will be monitoring the two of you for the rest of your case just in case he does prove to be a threat, understood?" 

    "Yes," Hisoka said with a nod. He stood in Tatsumi's office a moment longer in the silence, his hands instinctively fretting at the edges of his shirt where he could feel the slight tingling of the spreading marks. After a moment, he gathered himself and spoke again. 

    "Ah…Tatsumi-san?" 

    "What is it?" Tatsumi asked, looking up from where he had resumed his work. 

    _Are you going to ask if he can see them?_ Muraki asked in the back of his mind, _You do know he's only going to chase after me because of his precious Tsuzuki-san. He won't care about you. And what will he thinks when you show him marks that aren't there, hm?_

    _He cares about me…_ Hisoka replied, making the words more of an affirmation to himself than any sort of retort. 

    _But what of the marks?_

    _He…_ Hisoka began before trailing off. 

    _Will he care about the nightmares that you suffer through?_

    _I…_

    "Kurosaki-kun," Tatsumi said, fixing his glance on Hisoka as he tapped his pencil against his desk, "Is there something else you wanted to say?" 

    "Ah…" 

    _You're just another expense to him, you know._

    "No, it's nothing," Hisoka answered quickly. "Thank you, though…" he said as he made his way out of the room. 

    As he left, he could have sworn that Tatsumi cast a glance of almost confused worry in his direction. But then, it was probably his imagination. 

    _Tatsumi-san never really cared about me…did he?_

    Sighing, Hisoka made his way back to Chijou, not bothering to dispel the doubt placed within his mind. 

~*~ 

    By the time Hisoka had returned to the hotel room, Tsuzuki had already undertaken the task of ordering them food. Usually, they had Chinese when they were on missions. For all intents and purposes, the quick take out food was just easier than most others. However, this time Tsuzuki appeared to be getting creative. 

    "You got fast food?" Hisoka asked with an incredulous lift of his eyebrow. 

    "Uh huh," Tsuzuki nodded through a mouth full of French fries, "It's really good! You should try some!" 

    Hisoka stared at the monstrosity before him that was called a hamburger. He blinked once, regarded it carefully, and then turned to make his way to the bathroom. Anything with that much grease couldn't be natural, or good for him, even if he was already dead. 

    "I'm going to take a shower," he called out as he shut the door to the hotel's small bathroom. If Tsuzuki had anything to say about the matter, Hisoka did not hear it as he turned the water on and began undressing. 

    The warm water was soothing. It was something that Hisoka never ceased to enjoy whenever he could. Sometimes the rivulets of warm liquid that flowed around him were almost like the warmth and comforting embrace of another person's arms. 

    It was childish, he knew, but at times when he felt the water running over his body he would lean against the tile walls of the shower and hold himself. If he closed his eyes, through the mist and the white noise of the falling water, he could almost convince his mind that there was someone else there with him. Someone sharing the intimacy of the moment, soothing away his fears as their warm feelings flowed into him unbidden by the skin on skin contact. 

    For a moment Hisoka lingered in his self-induced haze. Sometimes if he just half-opened his eyes, he could swear that he could see Tsuzuki's amethyst eyes watching him through the mist, smiling. 

    _Fanatsize much, bouya?_

    Hisoka practically jumped out of his skin upon hearing the voice. His green eyes snapped wide open as his hands dropped from where they had rested on his own shoulders. 

    _You really shouldn't be surprised by now,_ Muraki taunted him. 

    _You…_ Hisoka thought, his eyes narrowing unconsciously. Taking a deep breath he somehow managed to calm his racing heart as his hands curled to fists at his side. 

    _So nice to see you again, too._

    Closing his eyes, Hisoka stubbornly made an effort to ignore the voice in his mind, and set about washing. He knew that all the doctor was trying to do was instill doubt within his mind. However, what scared him more than that was the fact that he was succeeding. 

    He had never known that anyone cared about him, never been able to feel those warm emotions. That was what Muraki fed off of, and somehow Hisoka couldn't bring himself to deny that it was true. 

    _Do you ever wonder what would happen if I were to appear before you now, bouya?_ Muraki asked, his voice cutting through the Shinigami's thoughts. 

    _Shut up…_ he replied as he reached for the shampoo. 

    _If it happened right now, would Tsuzuki-san hear you scream?_

    _He would…_ Hisoka thought softly, trying to concentrate to keep his hands from trembling as they gripped the bottle. 

    _Would he really come for you? Come to save you?_

    _Tsuzuki would…he…he…_ he was shivering despite the heat of the water, on his skin he could feel the light tingling of his curse marks that he knew would turn to burning pain shortly. 

    _Would you like to find out?_ Muraki asked, and then it happened. 

    He could feel the pain lancing through him. In that moment he was unable to do a thing to stop himself from screaming. He felt the shampoo bottle drop from his hands, as his arms frantically reached for the tiled walls. The world was falling away from him. He could feel the darkness, the darkness that indicated his presence, and it was closing in all around him. 

    As he fell, he could not hear anything but his own screams. 

~*~ 

_More to come in the next chapter...hehehe..._


	4. Chapter Three

_I'm going to now state for the record that this entire _fic_ is not going where I want it to. I wanted this chapter to be about a page longer, but then this scene popped up and I couldn't make it longer. Stupid chapter. Oh well, enjoy the chapter. I promise more action in the next one, I swear._

**~*~ **

From Dreams to Reality   
Chapter Three 

    The first thing Hisoka was aware of when he returned to himself was a dull throbbing at the back of his skull. A shiver danced down his spine as he felt the beating of the cold water on his skin. Was he still in the shower? He couldn't remember. Slowly, his emerald eyes cracked open as he glanced around himself at the tiled walls and inside of the hotel bathroom. 

    Nothing had happened. Muraki had not come, there was no evidence of anything out of the ordinary. 

    He sat up from where he had fallen in the tub, wincing slightly as the pain at the back of his head grew. What had happened? A quick glance to the floor of the tub explained his question. The water across the bottom of the tub ran towards the drain carrying a slight pink hue with it. Reaching to lightly touch the back of his head, Hisoka could feel the wound there as it healed over. 

    He had fallen, probably hit his head on the side of the tub. 

    Shaking himself slightly, Hisoka rose from the floor and quickly turned the water off. If he was still here, the water was still on…then what had become of what Muraki said? It somehow didn't seem like the doctor to make empty threats like that. He said he was coming, Hisoka had felt him coming, but then…nothing. 

    Hisoka frowned, his brows knitting together in thought. It was all too strange for him to understand. Whether what he had just experienced was an illusion of his own mind or not was simply some thing that he did not want to think about at that point in time. 

    With a soft sigh, he made his way out of the bathtub and dried off, trying to keep his eyes from the slight stain that remained upon the porcelain of the bathtub. He had brought his pajamas in to the bathroom with him, which consisted of an old shirt and a pair of loose sweatpants. Pulling them on, he tugged at the sleeves of his shirt, somehow thanking himself for having remembered to bring a long-sleeved shirt. 

    Even though Tsuzuki knew his marks were there, he would never admit to it by allowing his partner to see them unless he wanted him to. Perhaps on some other occasion he would show Tsuzuki the marks for more than a moment, let his partner see how far they ran about his body, how they seemed to stain his entire existence. But he could not do that just yet. And perhaps, he never would be able to. 

    Hisoka was never quite sure of what he felt for Tsuzuki, what there was between them. He had admitted to needing Tsuzuki, and that much he knew to be true, but beyond that he could not tell. Whether or not what they shared went deeper than his own selfish desire to have someone near him to banish the loneliness that he had unwillingly grown accustomed to in his living years he could not tell. 

    Glancing up from where he had paced into the hotel bedroom he saw the man in question curled up in the blankets and covers of the room's sole bed. Sighing to himself, Hisoka shook his head at the sight. Sometimes he swore his partner never did anything more than sleep, eat, and whine. It was irritating, but he had spent enough time with the grown-up child he called a partner to grow used to it. 

    Pulling at the second pillow placed at the head of the bed, he ran his hands across the few sheets that Tsuzuki had left for his own use. He did not feel tired, and he had no real desire to sleep, but he knew that he ought to at least try. There had been far too many embarrassing experiences when he had blacked out and found himself awakening with Tsuzuki's purple eyes on him, filled with concern. 

    Hisoka did not want that to happen again, he hated admitting to his own weakness. Somehow, if he could just convince everyone that he wasn't a child and that he was fine by himself, he would be happy. Maybe then people would leave him alone and stop worrying about him, and then maybe, with that loneliness, he would be happy. 

    Shaking his head quickly Hisoka dispelled the thoughts and crept up onto the bed. Tsuzuki was sleeping soundly, as always, and did not seem to notice when his partner joined him in the bed. That in and of itself was certainly not strange, Tsuzuki often slept through everything and anything. 

    However, something did not sit right with Hisoka. There was something strange about the situation he was in. Sitting up on the bed for a moment he frowned in thought. Really there was no reason for him to be worried that Tsuzuki was sleeping soundly. Nothing had truly happened which would have awoken him, had it…? 

    Hisoka's eyes widened suddenly at his own revelation. His own screams. He remembered, he remembered distinctly having fallen in the bathroom, his own screams echoing to his ears. Tsuzuki would have heard those. He would have been worried, he would have done _something_. 

    Inhaling sharply, Hisoka felt a cold weight sink upon his chest, pulling at his heart. There was an-all-too-familiar stinging in his eyes and he knew what he felt. Swallowing, Hisoka ran a hand across his eyes trying to catch any tears that might have strayed. He lay himself down upon the bed and curled up into a tight ball, letting his back face Tsuzuki. 

    Though he told himself that he would not cry until sleep took him, sometimes there was very little that his mind could do to govern his own actions. 

~*~ 

    For Hisoka, dreams had been a strange sort of constant factor within his life. For as long as he could remember, he had slept to the visions of dreams. They had not always been pleasant, but he knew that they were always there. Twisting realities of what could have been and what had come to pass. Visions of futures, pasts, and presents which he could have, would have, might have lived had his life changed in just the slightest little way. 

    In dreams, he has a mother who cared, a father who loved him, an older sister to play with, someone to watch over him, hold him close in the night and whisper words of love and care into his ear. But in dreams, there was darkness hidden under moonbeams, slit-eyes hiding in the shadows, and incomprehensible hatred hidden behind the most caring facades. 

    However, on this night, there were no such things. He did not dream of his home, nor of a family that never was. He did not dream of a darkened night, crimson-tainted and plagued with memories. Within his dream, there was nothing. 

    A black expanse, a void unending for miles upon miles. He faced it alone, with no support nor even a shadow to follow him as he tread onto paths unknown. Though he was not afraid of it, the vision before him seemed to be slightly unnerving. The darkness was too deep; it held something more behind its surface. 

    But Hisoka was not sure that he knew, nor wanted to know, exactly what lay beyond the smooth ebony surroundings. 

    So he contented himself to the loneliness. He sat within his own darkness, surrounded by it on all sides, and endured the loneliness. Things such as that had long since become habit for Hisoka. He had managed to make his way through the loneliness of his life with his family, and, through the years as the living dead, he took the times when he was alone, and endured. 

    But of course, there were things that would have been, which could be, and would make things so much better. A person to rest beside him each night the sun fell, someone to sit with him, to share his meals, someone he would share the simple comfort of just living with, if only to have them there, and to know for a split second that when he returned home from the office, he would not be alone. 

    There were those things that he wanted, but could never have on his own… 

    _Hisoka, could I come home with you?_

    For a moment the bleak darkness of his dreamscape shifted. Hisoka could almost swear he had seen the echo of violet eyes that haunted him every day. But all too quickly after it had appeared it vanished. Staring confused into the emptiness, he was not sure exactly what he had just witnessed. 

    _Little brother…hurry up! Papa and Mama are waiting for us!_

    Turning quickly he could see the fading image of a girl running from him. Her blue kimono and sandy blonde hair stood out in striking contrast to the ebony of his own dream. Without even knowing what he had done he called out to her. 

    "Neesan…wait!" he ran after her, chasing the image as it vanished before him. Once again he was left alone. But the place he was in was no longer his own darkness. There was something else dwelling within, he could sense it. 

    _Ne…Hisoka?_ He heard a familiar voice call out to him, although he could not see where it had come from. 

    "Tsuzuki…?" He questioned the darkness, not knowing exactly what was happening. 

    _Little brother will find someone for himself, won't he?_

    "Neesan? You think so…?" his words were full of hope, full of a swelling happiness within himself even though he knew not where it came from. 

    _It'd be pretty hard for little brother to find someone like that though…_

    "What do you mean?" he asked, turning in every direction trying to find the source of his nonexistent sister's voice. 

    _Because little brother is a cursed child._

    "What…?" Hisoka said softly, his eyes wide with shock. 

    _Little brother stole my life, didn't he?_

    "No! Neesan, I didn't do anything like that!" 

    _Little brother knows that papa never really wanted him, doesn't he?_

    "That's not true neesan! It's not true!" 

    _Little brother can tell that mama hates him, she hates him…_

    "Neesan!" he shouted, suddenly very aware of tears that were streaming down his own cheeks, "That's not true!" 

    "Is it?" she asked, her voice now very real within his own illusion. Turning quickly, he found himself staring into eyes as bright and green as his own. A small smile twisted across his sister's features. "They all reject you in the end." 

    "No…they…" Hisoka gasped between his own tears, tears he found himself unable to stop. 

    "Who was that one whom is precious in your eyes?" she asked idly, looking down upon him with her eyes as cold as jade, "Those amethyst visions that haunt your dreams?" 

    "Tsuzuki…" he whispered under his breath, "What…what about Tsuzuki…?" 

    "Little brother…you must know he doesn't care," she said to him, a soft and honest smile across her face, "You must know he cares for no one." 

    "But he…" 

    "He smiles to all, and he closes his heart to them as well." 

    "Neesan…how do you know…?" 

    "I have been told," she said quickly, placing a delicate hand upon Hisoka's shoulder, "I only want what's best for my little brother, right?" 

    "Tsuzuki is right for me, neesan," he said firmly, looking up at his older sister, "I know that…" 

    "Shh…" one of her soft fingers was placed over his lips, "Listen to me, little brother. Your Tsuzuki is wrong for you." 

    "No, he isn't." Hisoka said firmly, "He's right, he's-" 

    "Just listen little brother," she cooed to him as one of her hands stroked his hair gently, "He'll hurt you. You're wrong to love him, little brother. You know that, don't you?" 

    "Neesan…" he said softly, "I don't understand…" 

    "Just think little brother," she said encouragingly, "You know who's loved your Tsuzuki before, don't you?" 

    He nodded slowly, looking into her emerald eyes, "Tatsumi-san loved him too." 

    "Very good, and does your Tsuzuki love Tatsumi-san?" 

    "No…he…" Hisoka started, before he shook his head and glanced down at the black void expanding below his feet, "I don't know." 

    "Does your Tsuzuki share his life with Tatsumi-san?" 

    "He doesn't," he said softly. 

    "Does your Tsuzuki allow Tatsumi-san to hold him softly, to quell his fears?" 

    "Sometimes…he…" 

    "Little brother," she said harshly, and when his green eyes met hers, she continued in stern tone, "Does he?" 

    A moment lapsed between them before Hisoka turned his head aside and whispered softly, "No, he doesn't." 

    "Now…do you think your Tsuzuki would treat you differently, with your love little brother?" she asked, tilting his head up so she could look into his eyes that mirrored her own, "Would your Tsuzuki treat you any different, little brother?" 

    "I…" Hisoka said, trying to gather a though to counter his sister's words. 

    "Would he?" she asked calmly, looking into his soul with her eyes filled with concern. 

    "No," he said softly. 

    "That's right little brother," his sister reassured him as she drew her younger sibling into an embrace. "He's not the one for you, your Tsuzuki." 

    Hisoka felt bitter tears sting his eyes as he clutched at the blue fabric of his sister's kimono. Crying into her, he felt sorrow, but a part of him knew that this revelation was the truth. He could not hide from the truth any longer. A few moments brought silence to his sorrows. Calmly, he wiped his eyes dry with the back of his hand, before he turned up to his sister once more. 

    "But, neesan…if he's not the one for me…then, who is?" 

    His sister smiled at him upon hearing this. Fluidly, she stood before him, the blue fabric of her kimono swirling gently in an unseen wind. 

    "The one who's right for you little brother…" she said with a smile as a strange image began to twist itself into being behind the darkness of the dreamscape. "Is an angel." 

    Behind her, Hisoka could see the tall trunk of a cherry tree sprouting from the ground which had only recently been nothing but void. 

    "He's a truly wonderful person," she continued as the moon appeared in the sky above them, clouded red with stains of blood. 

    "I think you've met him before, little brother, haven't you?" As she turned to him, her visage changed and slipped away. The blue kimono was replaced by a coat of pristine white. The lips that were no longer hers, but _his_ twisted into a cruel smirk as he turned his attentions to the boy. "Ne, _bouya_?" 

    All at once Hisoka saw before him the images of the falling sakura, strewn blood and pain of death play over once again. And once again, he woke to the morning sky screaming. 

~*~ 

    Hisoka's eyes were open before he could stop his own screams. That was the way it always went. Slowly he would gain control of his breathing, clench his hands to the bed sheets and keep his own small frame from shivering because of the fear that the dream had wrought. 

    The first thing he always became aware of was the graying light blue hues of morning's first light. It seemed to him that almost every morning he woke to see the sunrise creeping over to present to the word a bloodstained dawn. Some people claimed that the sunrise was a beautiful thing, full of radiant colors, showing the life of the day peeking out from under a cover of night's death. 

    But Hisoka did not think so. He thought the sunrise was nothing more than a reminder of the people whose existence had flickered and faded under a velvet covering of stars. Much as his own had faded away, one night so many years prior. 

    So he sat there, silently, watching as the dawn broke upon a newborn world and covered everything in a strange red-tinted golden light. Only when the first beams of light had gently touched the walls of the hotel room he slept in did he dare get up from the bed he shared. 

    His morning ritual was something that never changed, regardless of whether or not there was another person there with him to interrupt the steady flow of his own actions. He dressed, unconsciously pulled down at the long sleeves of his navy blue turtleneck as he saw the marks creeping slowly further across his skin. He ate, in silence with no company save for himself and the dull echoes against the wall of his own motions as he made to sustain himself in what seemed a futile and foolish effort. 

    And then, only when everything else had been completed, did he turn to the still-sleeping form that had curled itself into a cocoon of blankets on one side of the small bed that they had shared that night. Hisoka knew Tsuzuki never liked early mornings. On all the cases they had completed together, Tsuzuki would never willingly pull himself out of bed before the hour of noon. The thought of such a thing seemed sacrilege to the man. 

    Hisoka knew this, and at all times, it truly depending on his mood as to whether or not he would disturb his partner from the soothing sleep of dreamers. Some days, he would simply seat himself near to the bed, a book hiding his face as he stole furtive glances to the peaceful and open face of his sleeping partner. He would be careful to keep his eyes to the pages once Tsuzuki's stirrings indicated that he would be awake soon. 

    Other days, he did not care for what his partner's desires were. On those days, he would grab the bed sheets that encircled his partner as a barrier between him and the waking world and brutally pull that protection from him. He would watch with a sort of sadistic pleasure as Tsuzuki squirmed for a few moments before whining and rubbing at his sleep worn eyes. 

    Today, he stood before the bed, looking down upon a mop of disheveled brown hair that peeked out from under the quilted hotel blankets. He frowned silently to himself, contemplating his course of action, but at the same time wondering softly why he felt a strange sort of déjà vu at this moment. 

    There was truly nothing strange about Tsuzuki sleeping in, nothing which should have espoused the feelings of worry and sadness within Hisoka. But at the same time, he knew, instinctively, that there was some thing that should have woken his slumbering partner. 

    He frowned in thought, his green eyes narrowing as he wondered to himself why the situation, why the feelings, were all to similar to what he had felt the night before… 

    …when his screams had echoed across the walls of their room, but Tsuzuki had slept soundly. 

    Hisoka's eyes widened momentarily at the recognition. That was what it had been. He knew, as always happened, that his dreams and nightmares brought him into the waking world with screams on his breath. He had heard them this morning, echoing in his own ears. 

    In the past, no matter how deeply Tsuzuki slept, no matter how hard it was to wake him in the morning, if, at some point in time before dawn broke, Hisoka's screams could be heard within the room they shared, he would be awake. However, this morning, much the same as it had happened the night before, Tsuzuki had not awoken to his partner's cries for help. 

    He remembered Tsuzuki's warm embrace. Remembered how his partner had comforted him in the past. Tsuzuki had always been there for him offering comfort even when he was too selfish and too detached from his partner to accept it. The other Shinigami's warm smile and gentle words had almost become a sort of constant to Hisoka's life beyond death. And yet…now they were gone. 

    Hisoka shook his head, trying to dispel the thoughts of doubt that clouded his mind. There was some sort of explanation for it. Some reason why Tsuzuki had not awoken to his screams. However, Tsuzuki had fallen asleep before Hisoka had, and he had not been woken by the screams the night before. He couldn't possibly have fallen into a sleep so deep that he would not hear the sounds of the outside world. Although Tsuzuki did always sleep like the dead, he had always awoken, every time, when Hisoka's nightmares plagued his rest. 

    However, now Tsuzuki slept peacefully in the bed they had shared, he was encircled in a world of dreams, seemingly oblivious to the cries that Hisoka had uttered earlier. There was nothing to concern him more than his own slumber. 

    Hisoka had realized this, yet he did not know exactly what to make of it. He felt the familiar sting of tears within his eyes, his throat had closed with their coming, but he knew that he would not let himself cry. Stubbornly, he moved and sat at the small table within their hotel room. He had left his book there the night before. Picking it up, he firmly buried himself within the words written upon the pages, not caring for the world outside of the book's fantasy. 

    Somehow, he felt as if Tsuzuki's continued slumber was a sort of betrayal. As if, for all the times that he had provided comfort for Tsuzuki, he received nothing in return. However, as he plunged himself deeper into his world of fantasy, none of that seemed to matter. Instinctively, he had known that Tsuzuki wouldn't return his feelings, that the violet-eyed man was only seeking his own selfish comfort from the boy. 

    Hisoka realized this now, and he did not care. Things had simply returned to the way that they always were. He had never really seen true comfort, and he knew that he would not find it within the arms of the man resting softly in the bed not more than three feet away from him. 

    So, with a dull ache set deep within himself Hisoka sat reading his book until the sun reached its apex and Tsuzuki woke on his own violation, ignorant of the dreams which had plagued his partner's sleep. 

~*~ 

_Neesan means older sister in Japanese, for the curious at heart. And yes, Hisoka does have an older sister. Her name was Hisoka. And she was killed by his uncle about ten seconds after she was born. So yeah, the Kurosaki family is really screwed up. _


End file.
